Assassin's Creed Syndicate: Antidote (Jacob Frye fanfic)
by AnimalWhisperer1049
Summary: A fanfiction based off of Jacob Frye from Assassin's Creed: Syndicate. Full summary inside first chapter. Also on Wattpad published under @AnimalWhisperer
1. Author's Note

Summary:

Jacob Frye. Powerful. Brutal. Arrogant. Reckless. Alongside his sister Evie, he has liberated London from the grasp of Crawford Starrick. Now, leading the Rooks is his top priority, but he craves more excitement. He's a god damn Assassin after all. But unlike his stealthy elder twin sister, brash behavior urges him on. He functions on speed and strength, and that's how it has always been. However, what happens if his daredevil ways backfire on him? What happens if he lands himself in some hot water? What happens when he finally realizes the world doesn't always bend under brute force? Now, he needs to learn how to fight not Templars, but himself. He needs to find something to oppose him but will ultimately save him, his very own antidote... Whatever or whoever it may be. NOTE: Some things may not be completely accurate to the time period or the game, and I apologize, but this story is a work of FICTION and I write it how I like :) The setting will also be during Victorian London, the same setting from Assassin's Creed: Syndicate. All rights to Ubisoft.

Soooo I'm doing my first video game fanfiction. Oi. I'm not the most educated on the Assassin's Creed series, but I know my basic things. This won't really be a series fanfic, but it focuses more on Jacob. I apologize if I get something wrong, but I just write what I think fits best with the story. Yes, this will be a romance story, so if you're looking for some badass continuation of the series that focuses on precursors or the pieces of eden, or Ezio, or Desmond, or some other character from another game in the series, I suggest you look elsewhere. Not to worry, there will be SOME badass scenes. And I'm not the best writer, so I'm still improving. I appreciate any tips, but please don't be rude :)

This fanfiction is based off Jacob Frye from Assassin's Creed Syndicate.


	2. Chapter 1

Rumbling filled the air as the train sped along at a constant pace along the tracks. The noise is familiar, and Jacob Frye's highly alert ears have tuned it out as background noise. He kicked up his feet on an ottoman and folded his hands across his stomach. His lips part as a heavy sigh escaped him. He leaned back, and angled his top hat over his face to shield the afternoon light from his eyelids.

Drowsiness sweeps him away, like the waves of the River Thames.

 _"Darling, what a night! The stuff of legends!" Roth's gravelly voice trilled._

 _"Why did you do it? All of it?" Jacob growled, his fists still clenched around the kukri dripping in crimson, the blood still warm._

 _"What? Snap a baby crow's neck between my thumb and forefinger? Slice to bits the ones you deem innocent? Keep the world in its divine manic state?" Roth snapped back._

 _"For the same reason I do anything-"_

 _Roth's lips pressed against his, and Jacob grunted, and struggled to pull away. His face contorts in shock and disgust._

 _"Why not?" Roth's laughed. He backed away, still laughing, arms outspread and the distance between the two shrunk until his figure was no longer in Jacob's field of sight._

 _His diabolical cackles remained though, and they grew louder and louder until it was deafening to Jacob's ears. The sound morphed until it's no longer human, and they sound like the cries of a murder of crows flying overhead. Suddenly, an elegant box appeared in his hands. He ran his gloved fingers over the engraved crest of the box, and he's filled with dread, as he knows what the contents of the box are. A forced sense of curiosity overpowers the dread, and Jacob's hands flipped open the lid._

 _A baby crow rests in the velvet lined box, its soft coal colored feathers perfectly aligned against its body, not a single one ruffled. Then, an eye opens, and a shiny, beady bird eye looks up at him. Its body heaved up and down slightly, like an attempt to breathe._

 _Its black beak parted open and it only crowed one sound._

 _"Jacob!"_

"Jacob!"

He bolted up, awakened from his slumber, top hat flying to the ground. He instinctively withdrew the hidden blades from his gauntlet, and swung his arm outwards. His attack is blocked, and his eyes met with a pair of light emerald orbs.

 **Short chapter, I know! But this was just the first one and it was kinda like an intro. Please let me know what you think! :)**


	3. Chapter 2

Only one person could counter his moves so swiftly.

"Evie," Jacob laughed and flexed his wrist to draw the blades back in again. "My dear sister interrupting me from a nap. What a pleasant surprise," he drawled, his typical sarcasm coating his deep voice.

"Well I wouldn't have interrupted you if you hadn't looked like one of John Elliotson's human experiments," his twin remarked back, and crossed her arms.

Jacob squinted his eyes at her, and the corners of Evie's mouth curled upward. "Did 'Sir Jacob Frye' have a nightmare?" She mocked.

"Please." He rolled his eyes at the insult. "The only nightmare in my life is you." He stooped down and snatched up his top hat, brushing off specks of dust.

"Harsh words, dear brother," Evie recalled the words once uttered to her. "Anyway, I have to meet with Henry. I just came to tell you there's some trouble brewing with the few remaining Blighters in Whitechapel. Thought you needed something to do."

"Have fun with your fiancé, then. I'm going to go kick some Blighter ass and show them who's boss." Jacob walked to a drawer and slid it open, selecting a Darbe's Bear Paw from an array of brass knuckles. He shut the drawer, and grabbed his elegant cane-sword, and gave it a toss in the air first.

"It feels good to have some weapons in your hands again, doesn't it?" Evie asked, while she tucked a few knives in her coat.

"Hell yes."

* * *

The shouts of men and the clattering of horse hooves on the cobbles managed to disperse Jacob's thoughts about Roth and ravens. Although London was mostly crime-free nowadays, it was hardly ever idle. Men, women, and children bustled about, chickens pecked at whatever morsels of food they could find, cats strolled in the shadows, and dogs yapped from their mistress's handbags. The streets were dotted with more chartreuse colored coats of the Rooks and fewer ruby ones of the Blighters. The end of Starrick's life had only marked the beginning of London's freedom from oppression.

"Good day, Mr. Frye!" A young passerby called out. A lad of no more than a decade old offered Jacob a toothy grin, and Jacob replied with a smile. "Must be one of Clara's children," he muttered to himself. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, his fingers curling around the cold metal of the brass knuckles. He couldn't wait to bash them into some idiot Blighter's skull.

He reached the streets of Whitechapel and he turned down a dark alley and became swallowed by shadows. Gritty bits of stone crunched beneath his boots, and the buildings decreased in elevation. Shattered windows bared their grimy glass teeth. A wanted poster caught Jacob's eye.

A tattered piece of parchment featuring crude drawings of the Frye twins hung to the crumbling brick wall, its corner drooping like a sad, dejected teardrop. Jacob chuckled to himself, and tore the poster off the wall, crumpled it up in his fist, and tossed it over his shoulder. No doubt a leftover piece of work from Starrick's reign.

Such a prominent figure cannot be easily erased. The twins' work was slowly spreading throughout London, however, like the way ivy crept along a wall. Endorsement for Soothing Syrup had been almost completely abolished, and police officers seemed chipper and less hostile.

"Boss!"

A flash of green in the corner of his's eye caused him to turn around. A tall, lanky man in a Rooks' uniform jogged toward him. Jacob greeted him with a nod. "Boss," the Rooks member repeated, gasping. The man stopped in front of Jacob, leaning his palms on his knees to catch his breath. "There's a group of half a dozen Blighters in this area. Me 'n Clarke were ambushed. They were too busy beating Clarke to a pulp and didn't pay any notice to me, so I slipped away to get help. Thank god you're here."

"Lead the way then-" Jacob paused, unable to remember the Rook's name.

"Stanley, sir."

"Right, Stanley. Lead the way."

The two men hurried through the alleys and rounded the corner to quite a commotion. An unfortunate Rook was swarmed by Blighters, his eye already blackened, his green coat in shreds, and his right arm hung at a deformed angle at his side. "Like a pack of wolves surrounding a lamb. How brave. Six against one," Jacob called out, causing the the Blighters to all pause and turn around.

"It's the leader of the Rooks!" A Blighter sneered.

"He and his sister killed Starrick!" Another shouted.

"Well boys, I guess it's our duty to avenge Starrick," A third blighter bellowed.

The Blighters gave a synchronized yell, and charged Jacob, but he was ready. He threw down a smoke bomb, and while the Blighters stumbled around, he took the opportunity to pierce the gut of two of them with his kukri. He slashed the throat of another with his blade before the smoke dissipated.

Stanley assisted his friend while the three remaining Blighters were focused on Jacob. A brawny, stocky Blighter managed to sneak in a punch to Jacob's abdomen, but that only riled Jacob up even more. He barreled toward the Blighter, unsheathing his cane sword, and slicing away at the Blighter. He had almost defeated that one, but another jumped in and slashed Jacob's shoulder. Jacob threw a punch at the one that had slashed his shoulder and his brass knuckles collided with the Blighter's skull. A sickening crunch was heard before that Blighter was knocked down to the floor. The one that Jacob had previously fought fell to his feet with a large thump, and then only one Blighter was left.

The Blighter removed a pistol from her coat, but Jacob predicted it, and jumped out the way before she pulled the trigger. He didn't bother to get close to her to attack her, so he unlatched the blade at the bottom of his sword's sheath and flung it at the female Blighter, pinning her arm to the wall behind her. She cried out in pain, and he thrust the sword through her chest, and plucked his sheath from the wall.

He wiped the blade on his cane sword on the shirt of a dead Blighter, and sheathed it, transforming it from a deadly weapon to an exquisite accessory of a 19th century man. He observed his handiwork, and nodded approvingly at the bodies littered around him. Stanley and Clarke stood by, eyes wide, astonished at what they just witnessed.

"All in a day's work. Might want to close your mouths, gentlemen. Wouldn't want to swallow any insects," Jacob pointed out. He tossed them a few coins, and they shimmered in the air before being enveloped by flesh. "To repair your coat," Jacob explained, and strolled off, while adjusting his top hat. He stepped out of the dark alleyways, and back onto the sunlit pavement.

He observed the civilians passing by- a woman guiding two children home, a basket slung on her arm, a carriage man transporting a high class couple home- and sighed.

He remembered first arriving in London on the train with Evie. A child had pick-pocketed him, and after he abandoned the chase, he had instantly been consumed with brawling two Templars. Twinges of nostalgia hit him and his hands curled into fists.

"Once again, Jacob Frye's fun is over. All good things must come to an end, I guess," he told himself. He pointed his boots towards the train, intending to go back. "If excitement can't find me, I'll go look for it. Today's fun doesn't have to be over yet."

With that simple encouragement, he spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction of the train.


	4. Chapter 3

Splats of rain formed dark patches on the pavement, and the shoes of the civilians rushing past smeared them into one massive, disfigured lump. "Dammit," Jacob cursed. He tilted his head forward, his eyes taking in the darkening skies. A raindrop rolled down the bridge of his nose, and he snapped his head back down.

His first instinct told him to turn on his heel and go back to the warm, carpeted train. His second instinct urged him to use the stormy weather to his favor and keep his senses on high alert for some fun. "Fun" being beating the horse shit out of anyone in Whitechapel who dared take advantage of an innocent person seeking shelter in the rain. He knew how criminals think. The crowds of people rushing home to get out of the rain would provide the perfect cover to perform some dastardly deeds.

There was no debating which option he'd choose. The constant, routine rumbling of the train and the dull, uneventful evenings made him want to tear his own hair out. When times were busier for him and Evie, Jacob looked forward to kicking up his feet for a few moments. Now, the idleness makes him restless, his veins craving for something to get his heart racing.

Jacob crept close to the sides of the walls, the heels of his boots perpendicular to the bottom edge of the buildings. His limbs moved like liquid, the way a jaguar's would as it stalked its prey. The size of the puddles on the cobbles grew larger, and Jacob's patience grew thinner. "I guess London has gotten too smart for its own good. No one's decided to test their luck today," he grumbled to himself.

"Help me!"

A high pitched shriek rang through the air, setting off a smirk to spread across Jacob's face.

"Guess I was wrong."

Raindrops cut into his face, their weight increasing as the clouds grew more ominous. Another squeal resonated through the air, the victim was getting more desperate. The sound cut through Jacob, disturbing him more than the raindrops that splashed his skin. His coat was splattered with grimy drops from him running through puddle after puddle, but he gave no heed to it. He turned down an alley towards the sound of the cry and his echoing footsteps immediately ceased.

The first thing that caught his eye was the woman with her throat pinned against the wall, the tears that sprung from the corners of her eyes, and the ragged gasps that escaped her. The second thing that caught his eye was the rose colored sleeve of her right arm stained with blood, the arm itself hanging limply at her side. The third thing that caught his attention and kept it was her assailant. The man was about the same height as Jacob, but that's where the similarities stopped. His mass probably doubled or even tripled Jacob's, and rain slid from the roofs in the alley onto the man's shiny, hairless head.

"Let her go!" Jacob snarled and lunged towards the man. He drew his cane sword, and swung it mercilessly at the attacker. The blade slashed diagonally across the man's right shoulder, and blood spilled from the cut. The attacker jumped back in fury, and as a result, the woman crumpled to the floor. Her shoulders shook from the sobs assaulting her body and she buried her face in her left hand.

Jacob cast a furtive glance at her, and sympathy flared in him. The feeling was only brief, however, since his attention was redirected to the assailant. The man charged Jacob, like an enraged bear, all muscle and mass barreling towards him. Jacob had taken on brutes like this before. Defeating the man should be easier than beating Evie at climbing. Jacob jumped out of the way, like a bullfighter, and the brute spun around. No more defense. This time, it would be Jacob on the offense. Cane sword outstretched, Jacob faced off against the brute, who had a short blade clutched in his brawny hands. The attacker struck out with the blade at Jacob's rib cage, but he dodged it, and seized the opportunity to slam the cane sword into the man's skull.

A loud, cracking sound was heard from the impact, and triumph spread throughout Jacob's body. A victorious grin appeared on his brute appeared stunned, and for a moment stood there paralyzed. Then, the brute shook his head, similar to the way a dog shakes water off its body, and the grin vanished. The cane sword in Jacob's hand split in half, and fell to the slippery ground with a clang.

"Seems I'm in a bit of a predicament," he croaked, backing away, groping his coat for another weapon. His hands closed around a pistol, and he thrust it in front of him. "Come one step closer to me, and I'll blow your idiotic brain right out of your thick skull," he threatened. The man contemplated this for a second, and looked down at the blade in his hands. A sinister smile cut into the man's face and his bulky arm raised up, the blade catching the light of a nearby street lamp.

Jacob's finger pulled the trigger. An anticlimactic click sounded, surprising both men. "Empty dammit!" Jacob roared. His brown eyes widened as he realized the blade would be flying at his head any second now. But the blade never came.

Oh, it had left the attacker's hands alright. It just hadn't reached its intended the target. The blade clattered to the ground uselessly as a hooded figure cut through Jacob's field of vision, and landed on the brute with a loud thud. The sound of a knife slicing through flesh reached Jacob's ears, and so did the sound of the last gurgled breath of that man. The hooded figure's hands quickly rummaged the limp body and snatched a satchel from it.

"Oi come back here!" Jacob called out as the figure rushed off. "Wait, at least tell me who you are!" The figure paused for a moment, and looked back. Light from the rising moon revealed the top portion of the figure's face to Jacob, and he saw a milky face framed by a few loose strands of auburn hair, feminine steel eyes, and a petite nose. Encouraged by the figure's hesitation, Jacob stepped forward. Like a frightened deer, the figure rushed off, the sound of her boots getting quieter the further she got away.

"Dammit," he whispered.

A wail of pain from behind him brought him back to his senses, and he rushed to the injured woman's side. "I'm Jacob Frye."

"The assassin?" The woman gasped. Jacob nodded in grim reply and led the woman's good arm over his shoulder. "I'm Mercy," she let out, her breath shaky. He eased an arm around her waist and she whimpered as he guided her up.

"We need to get you to Ms. Nightingale."

His mind buzzed, trying to frantically recall Ms. Nightingale's location, but he couldn't conjure up anything. He could almost hear Evie's voice chastising him for being so forgetful. He softly groaned, dreading what he had to do next.


	5. Chapter 4

"Evie!" Jacob's deep voice called out. When silence answered, he yelled again, louder this time. "Evie!" His temper was rising and his patience was draining out of him like water out of a paper bag. A single, hastily lit candle cast a dim, yellow glow on the train car.

"Mr. Frye."

The woman in his arms muttered his name softly as her eyelids drooped, and Jacob felt her weight getting heavier. Her feet slid on the carpeted floor, and her blonde head shook slightly to the motion of the car.

"Mercy, stay awake. We're going to get you to Ms. Nightingale," he encouraged. He adjusted his grip on her and shouted once more towards the other end of the car.

"Evie!"

"What!?" Evie appeared through the curtains dividing the car, dressed in soft robes, loose strands of her dark hair flying away from her face.

"Bloody hell, that took you long enough!" Jacob complained, exasperated.

"It's the middle of the damn night!" She glanced at the frail woman, almost unconscious in Jacob's arms, and her brows furrowed. "Who's this?"

"This is Mercy. I saved her from someone who was assaulting her in Whitechapel. I was going to bring her to Ms. Nightingale straightaway, but there was a slight problem in my plan."

"You forgot Ms. Nightingale's address, didn't you?" Evie accused. She drew her mouth into a thin line and her eyes gave him a flat look.

From the silence that pursued, Evie had her answer. "Jacob! How could you?"

"There's no time for this! Mercy needs urgent attention!"

Evie gave her twin one last glare and snatched a quill from the desk. She tore a paper from a notebook, quickly wrote down the address, and stuffed it into Jacob's breast pocket since his arms were occupied. "I trust you'll get her there safely?" Her eyes narrowed at him and he confidently remarked, "Of course. Thanks so much for your help, dearest sister. I assume you'll head back to an unclothed Greenie in your bedchambers?"

"Shut up, Jacob, or I'm telling all the Rooks about the time you were stupid to let Pearl Attaway manipulate you."

* * *

The rattling of the wooden carriage wheels seemed lonely on the empty street. Not another soul was seen wandering the moonlit cobbles. The residents of Westminster were most likely all tucked away in their feather-stuffed mattresses at this time of night. The stark silence of the still night was a great contrast to the action-packed memory of one of his greatest gang fights here. Killing Robert Strain and gaining the Westminster borough for the Rooks was an achievement that he was fond of.

Jacob clucked his tongue, urging the reluctant horse to trot faster. He dared not advance into a canter however, afraid that the sharp movements jostling the carriage would worsen Mercy's wounds. A tall building loomed in front of him, and he turned up its drive. "Easy, girl," he murmured, and pulled back on the reins in his hand. The mare's nostrils flared, she and snorted, her heavy breath ascending into the chilly night air.

Jacob hopped down from the driver's seat, and yanked the door open with such a velocity, Mercy eyes widened. "We need to hurry, Mercy," he coaxed. He eased her thin frame into his arms, but every movement caused her such pain, and soon her blue eyes were flooded with tears. Finally, he stepped back and sighed. "Brace yourself, Mercy." In one swift move, he scooped her up and pulled her out of the carriage. Mercy let out a cry of pain, but then bit her lip to suppress any more sounds.

A creak filled the night air and a fuzzy light appeared in front of the two. "What's going on out here?" A voice demanded.

"Ms. Nightingale, sorry to disturb you at this hour, it's Jacob Frye, but Mercy here is in need of some urgent care. A few hours ago, a menace attacked her in Whitechapel," Jacob explained, jogging up the drive as fast as he could with Mercy nestled in his arms.

"My goodness. Well bring her here, Mr. Frye." He set Mercy down on the stoop, which caused her to lose her balance and stumble. He caught her waist, and assisted her into Ms. Nightingale's house, causing Mercy's cheeks to turn a pink shade.

"Will you be staying, Mr. Frye?" Ms. Nightingale questioned.

"Unfortunately, no. I think I must rather get home."

"I understand." Her skilled fingers assessed Mercy's arm and her practiced eyes swept over Mercy's rib cage. "Give my regards to Miss Frye."

"Will do." Jacob gave her a polite smile and glanced back at Mercy.

She adjusted her bun nervously, and tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "Have a safe trip home, Jacob," she muttered shyly.

"I can't promise that it'll be safe," he answered amusingly. "I never got your last name, however, Mercy."

Mercy's crystal eyes took in the tall assassin before her, from the tendrils of hair hanging underneath his top hat, to the scar on his eyebrow, to his bold posture, and she regained some confidence. She stood up straighter and refrained from wincing. "Owens. Mercy Owens," she replied, and smoothed down the lapels of his coat.

* * *

Crack.

Relief coursed through Jacob as he worked out the crick in his shoulder. He stretched his neck and a sigh left him. Wrestling with the reins of a stubborn carriage horse and carrying the weight of an injured woman can strain a person's shoulders. He situated himself on the mattress in the car of his own bedchamber, and undid his boots. Shrouded in darkness, his fingers felt for the buckles, and he unlatched them.

Suddenly, a bright light blared, blinding him for a second, and he jumped back, hidden blades at the ready. Evie stood there, a lamp in her hands. Jacob threw back his head and groaned. "You do realize you don't always have to sneak up on me and be dramatic?"

His twin flashed him a smile, and cheekily replied, "I know."

"By the way, Attaway may have fooled me at first, but she's the one who ended up with my blade buried inside of her chest."

Evie laughed, and set the lamp down on the floor. "I know that, Jacob. If you had let Pearl kill you, you would have gone down in history as the worst Assassin ever."

"I thought that title goes to you." He gave her a mischievous grin.

"Says the person who nearly caused British currency to collapse. Anyway, is Mercy alright?"

"She's fine."

"Henry told me it was raining in Whitechapel earlier today. How did you come across her?"

"After I got rid of the Blighters, I heard a scream for help," he shrugged, not bothering to disclose the part about lurking around the alleys. "Then I fought off some brute, and brought Mercy here."

Evie but a hand on her chin, observing her brother. "What?" He snapped.

"That seems too simple for you. Surely you must've ran into some other problems."

He mockingly placed a hand on his heart. "Oh how you offend me."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Stop doing that, you always remind me of father when you do that," he grumbled.

Evie blinked. "Jacob," she warned. "What else happened?" She pronounced each syllable slowly, emphasizing her sternness.

"So I might've cracked my cane sword on the brute's thick skull, and my pistol might've run out of bullets just as the attacker was about to hurl a knife at me, and some random woman from the rooftops might've leapt down on him and saved me before I was able to get stabbed by an airborne knife." He chuckled nervously, hoping his sister wasn't able to hear any of that. The words had flown out of him faster than rats fleeing when being chased by a cat.

Evie's jaw hung open, but just as she was about to comment, he stood up and pushed her towards her own car.

"Now that was a lovely conversation, my dear sister, but if you'll excuse me, I can't for the life of me keep my eyes open. I'm very tired after that exhausting day, and I'm sure your fiancé is eager to have you back in bed."

"Ja-"

"Goodnight!" He shouted and yanked his curtain closed.


	6. Chapter 5

Henry sat across from Evie in the main train car, stirring a spoon in his tea. The tiny clinks were the only sound interrupting the comfortable silence between the two. Evie's own cup of tea rested on the table in front of her, it's heat being leeched away as she occupied herself with the book in her hands.

She crossed her legs, her ruby colored cloak shifting along with the movement. Henry brings the cup of tea to his mouth and sips, sighing as the tea warms him against the brisk morning air.

"Uhhhrggghhh!" The startling, roar-like sound filled the train car.

"Morning, Jacob," Evie greeted without glancing up from the book.

"Morning, Evie, Greenie," Jacob muttered- pushing aside the curtain that separated the train car- his voice slightly distorted from the yawn. He straightened his arms and drew them behind his back, stretching. He thumped down heavily onto the seat next to Henry, causing the saucers and spoons on the coffee table to rattle.

"Biscuit?" Henry offered Jacob a basket. "Agnes picked them up from the bakery earlier." Jacob snatched one wordlessly and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes. He took a knife from the table, and dipped it into a dish of butter and slathered it onto his biscuit. The knife clattered noisily on the table as he tossed it, and leaned back, still slightly drowsy.

Evie closed her book and set it on the coffee table. "Jacob," she started.

"Oh no," he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!" Evie protested back.

"I do, actually." He took bite of his biscuit, speaking in between mouthfuls. "You're going to scold me about my reckless behavior yesterday and about how I was stupid for not checking my ammunition beforehand and for not analyzing the situation before getting myself into it."

Once he finished talking, Evie shot a glance at Henry. They both simultaneously burst into laughter.

"See, I was right," Jacob remarked. "And for your information, I'm heading into The Strand and purchasing more cartridges today."

"Oh yes, that reminds me," Henry says. "Evie, can I get a paper and pen?" Evie tore a page out of a notebook, and handed a pen to him. Henry scribbled down a note and handed the folded paper to Jacob. "Evie told me about your broken sword. That's the name of a weapons trader I know. Visit him when you're in The Strand today, and he'll negotiate a fair deal."

Jacob grinned ear to ear and clapped Henry on the back. "I can always count on you, Greenie."

"Boss." All heads turned to the Rook entering the car. Jacob stood up, picking up his top hat. "Yes, what is it?"

"Telegram for you." The Rook handed a slip of paper to him, and Jacob waved him away. His eyes skimmed over the printed letters.

"What is it, Jacob?" Evie asked, curious.

"Oh nothing," he answered back, and stuffed the paper into his pocket. "I'll be off now. I should get to The Strand before it gets too crowded." He adjusted his top hat, and left, smiling to himself.

* * *

Sun beams danced on the blade as it slashed through the air. Jacob's arms expertly handled the cane sword as he tested out its heft, swinging it through the air to cut down an invisible enemy. He sheathed it and flicked open the scythe blade. His fingers gingerly ran over the edge, and satisfaction welled inside Jacob.

"Ah, Sir Lemay's Cane. A very deadly blade, but beautifully forged. The cost is not that extravagant, but it's very efficient. Will you be taking this one, sir?" The merchant gave a charming smile, his eagerness to sell the sword a bit too obvious.

"Hmm, yes, I think this is the one." Jacob ran his hand over the smooth barrel of the sheathed cane. He held the carved head in a clenched fist, pretending that it was nothing more than a mere fashion accessory. "Yes, this will do very nicely."

The merchant clapped his hands together, extremely pleased that he had just made a sale. "Marvelous!"

Jacob fished out the money and laid it on the counter, and the merchant intently counted it. "Thanks very much, and do come again, Mr...?" The merchant paused his counting and looked up at Jacob.

"Frye. Jacob Frye," Jacob answered, flashing the the merchant a smile. At the sound of the famed assassin- who's name had been plastered all over the newspaper headlines for weeks- the merchant's eyes bulged and his jaw went slack. He stuttered, and jabbed a finger at Jacob.

"Didn't know I could cause such awestruck reactions like that. Although, I guess other people will be more in shock when I run a sword through their heart. Have a nice day." With that, Jacob pushed open the door to the shop and exited, twirling his new weapon in his hand.

With his coat pockets heavy with ammunition, and a shiny new sword in his hand, Jacob felt indestructible. He smirked haughtily, itching to test out his new weapon on some foolish bloke who chose to cross him.

He looked out from under the rim of his top hat, gazing at the market stalls. What better place to test it out than the crowded marketplace? The tail of his coat floated behind him as his legs carried him swiftly through the market. Chaps in their knee high socks waved newspapers in the air, their young voices calling out today's headlines, merchants offered goods, women stood outside shops chattering, and men laughed noisily as they clinked mugs at the outdoor pub tables.

All the noise blended together in Jacob's ears, the sounds mixing into some sort of audible concoction that surrounded him like fog. His eyes darted left and right, and his hands clasped his cane. A woman in a drab gown that contrasted her colorful hat called out to Jacob as he passed by her stand consisting of identical headwear. "Fancy a hat to take home for your mistress, sir?" She placed a hand on the wide rim, tipping it at an angle.

Jacob gave her a false smile, politely declining. "No tha-"

His smile immediately fell as the woman hit the ground with a loud thud, a figure having tackled her. "Thief!" The woman shrieked. The thief snatched a palm-sized purse from the side pocket of the woman's gown, sprung up, and scurried away. The woman's flamboyant hat flopped off her head and was flattened underneath the thief's feet as they rushed off. "I'll get you your purse back, madam!" Jacob yelled back, already racing away to catch the thief.

The thief's haste caused them to neglect being vigilant. They splashed through the puddles left from yesterday's rain, leaving wet footprints that Jacob easily tracked. The thief was fast. They've obviously had practice before, since Jacob could never get close enough to glimpse more than the heels of their boots.

Jacob followed them around another corner but instead of being met with more open street, the buildings closed off, forming a dead end. Jacob drew his sword from its new sheath. "Ah, not being familiar with the territory of the people from whom you're stealing from. Rookie mistake," Jacob snickered. "But I'm afraid this mistake will cost you greatly." His voice filled with false sorrow, his pout as fake as the counterfeit money produced after Twopenny's assassination.

He advanced on the thief, the sword in one hand, the scythe in the other. "Don't even think about climbing the walls. I've learned some bloody spectacular knife throwing skills from my sister, much as I hate to admit it." At this point, the thief's back still remained facing Jacob. His feet moved closer, and the thief hurled around.

From their waist, they brandished a long blade. It was similar to Jacob's kukri, but much longer, and wickedly curved with no angles. It wasn't an elegant thing like his kukri, all silver and accented with gold, but dark and dastardly like it was forged in the grittiest of blacksmiths. The hooded thief extended the weapon from their body, their posture daring, tempting Jacob to get closer. Jacob accepted the challenge.

"Is all this trouble really worth it for a meager purse of cash? Hand it over, and maybe, just maybe, I'll be merciful." A vicious smile etched into his face, but no answer came. "Fine then. Suit yourself. More fun for me."

He followed his comment with a thrust of his sword towards the figure's neck, but it collided into the brick wall behind them as the thief swerved to avoid it. The curved blade swung at Jacob's head, but he ducked and took the opportunity to slice their legs from underneath them. The thief predicted this move, but wasn't abrupt enough, and the sword nicked their right thigh. A female gasp sounded as Jacob brought his sword close to his body again, this time with blood decorating the edge.

He lunged again, but this time the thief was quicker than him, perhaps riled on by the humiliation of being cut. She brought her dagger down on his upper left arm, the momentum and the surprising pain causing Jacob to fling his sword to the ground. His eyes widened, and he held the sheath in both hands, its scythe blade unlatched. He dodged another swing she made at him and brought the sheath up just in time to block the dagger from crashing down onto him.

The thief's blade was obviously more powerful than just the flimsy scythe blade, but it was able to withhold the pressure of the knife as Jacob struggled to push back. He observed the rest of her body, looking for weak spots. While her upper body was defended by the knife, her lower body was too close to his and he struck a leg out, making her stumble.

Her hood fell back, exposing her face. Recognition flickered in Jacob for a moment as he scanned her face. "You. I know you." Her auburn and hair and silver eyes were all too familiar. His arm dropped to his side, his mouth open in shock. "You saved me from the brute. Why are y-"

He was cut off as she grabbed the back of his neck, forced him to his knees, and brought the curved blade to his throat, metal and flesh fitting like a puzzle. Her other hand dug her fingers into the cut on his arm, making him cry out, and willingly sink down. "What the devil is this? You saved me and now you want to kill me?" His voice reverberated against the midnight blade as he spoke.

"This," she said, the first time Jacob heard her voice. "Is survival." She spoke lowly, her lips forming words right next to his ear. Her voice sent chills down his back, yet it was smooth, the way cold wine glided down his throat. Keeping her blade to his neck, her other hand released his arm and sunk into Jacob's pockets. Her sly fingers pinched his wallet, and she slipped it into her jacket. "I helped you survive the other night. I guess the favor's been repaid now."

"Well I never really did get the chance to thank you," he answered calmly. He twisted his head up to look at her, and rammed his elbow up into her gut, the obsidian blade no longer wrapped around his throat. He stood up, grasped her wrist, twisted it, and used her own blade to cut a diagonal gash from her chest to her hip. The tip of the blade shined with fresh blood and he shoved her to the ground. Her hair turned into a darker shade of brown when mud coated her head as she fell into a puddle.

She groaned, and her arm collapsed to her side, the dagger sliding out of her hands. He stopped to pick up his fallen sword, and sheathed it.

"Consider yourself thanked."


	7. Chapter 6

Jacob had had it with his sister's lectures. His annoyance was growing and he felt like slicing off his ears with his hidden blade to drown out Evie's voice. "Are you done?" He groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Did you even hear what I was saying, Jacob?" Evie replied through clenched teeth.

"Focus on the objective, don't get distracted, and some other bullshit that I've probably heard from father a thousand times."

His twin pulled her mouth into a thin line. "And maybe don't let the the culprit get away next time so you won't have to pay the victim back from your own purse?"

"At least I paid the thief a lesson as well." He thought back to the wicked curved blade. "A lesson that will last." His lips pulled into an arrogant smirk as he reminisced that afternoon's brawl.

"Humbleness was never your forte."

"Being dull was always yours."

Evie rolled her eyes. Jacob's cockiness was a trait that lasted through his childhood, and unfortunately for her, it was not one that he grew out of. Although they were born only four minutes apart, she felt years older than her sibling.

She pulled a delicate gold pocket watch out of her coat and flipped open the engraved lid. It was a present from Henry, but unusually feminine for her, yet she cherished it since she had a peace of him when they were apart. "Half past noon. I have to go. Much as I'd love to hear you talk about your failures, I've run out of time, Jacob." She pocketed the watch and looked up to the sight of her brother frantically running a hand through his hair and adjusting his coat.

His brown eyes widened at the mention of the time. "Fuck, I'm late for a meeting with Mercy."

"At least tardiness is strong suit of yours." Evie stifled a chuckle. "Don't tell me you fancy her already?"

But by then, Jacob had fled the train, leaving Evie's mocking question hanging in the air.

* * *

It was so stupid. So very stupid, getting in a fight with an Assassin. How could she have not known he was an Assassin? From the moment she saw the insignia on his belt, she should have stayed away.

Now she had a scar to pay for it. The irony of that the scar came from her own blade. Not her own hand, however. She couldn't afford a healing salve from the apothecary and she could only pray that it would heal quickly. She stared at the cash in her knapsack, feeling somewhat pleased. At least she had gotten something out of the fight.

In his boldness, the Assassin had left the purses in her possession. The weight of the money in her palm gave her a sense of comfort. Perhaps the funds were enough to rent a room at a hostel for a days, maybe even get a hot bath and meal. Either way, it was time for her to stop sleeping in an abandoned carriage where her only neighbors are a family of rats.

She had to remember to stay cautious, however. There was no doubt what the Assassin would do to her if they crossed paths again. He had spared her for saving his life. But she was sure he wouldn't be so merciful the next time.

The sound of footsteps echoing against the alley walls made her stiffen. She spun around, facing her offender. She was in trouble. It wasn't one person. It was three. "Hello, pretty. We were looking for you. You're quite hard to track," one of the men said. She kept her stance, not wavering one bit.

"Well you found me. What do you want?"

The men advanced on her. "You. You're coming with us."

She fought the urge to laugh. "I don't think so." Her blade gleamed as she brandished it. The familiar grip of it in her hand gave her an edge and she lunged forward, raising it high, ready to bring it down on them. The sound of three pistols clicking made her pause mid strike.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, pretty," one of the men warned. Specifically, the man with the pistol aimed right between her eyes. Her analytical eyes darted between each of the three men. She gritted her teeth. "Fine. Looks like you guys win here." Her hand lowers the blade.

"Drop it," the man commanded. She glared at him , but let her weapon fall to the floor. The men that flanked her left and right lowered their firearms as well, but one kept his aimed at her. "Bad move," she grinned and leaped towards the attacker on her right. She used her left arm and put him into a head lock, and with her right hand, she reached into her cost and pulled out a knife, slashed the man's right leg, and held the dripping knife to his throat. "You can't shoot me now unless you want to kill your friend here too."

Three bullets riddled the man in her arms, and his body went limp in her arms before falling forward, blood oozing out of the wounds. "I didn't really give a shit about him anyway," his comrade shrugged. Her jaw slackened in shock, and she backed away, hitting her backside into a building.

"Now now, you better behave. Our boss wants you alive, but he never said unharmed." The two men both aimed their pistols at her chest and they came closer to her.

"Your boss?" She questioned.

"Ye-" His sentence got cut off by a knife that ran through his throat, and he gagged on his own blood, collapsing to the floor, coughing. The other man turned around, only to be met by another knife in between his eyes. He fell to the floor, dead alongside his friend.

"Good aim, Evie," a smooth male voice said.

"Thanks, Henry," a female voice replied. "I haven't practiced much lately. I thought I was getting rusty."

Her eyes tried to find the source of those voice, and out of the shadows stepped a man and a woman. Based on their robes, and very prominent symbol on the woman's cloak, she knew that they were Assassins. She's been quite popular with them lately.

"Are you alright?" The woman asked. Her face showed no ill intent.

"F-fine," she stammered. "T-thank you for that."

"Of course." The woman extended her hand. "I'm Evie Frye, by the way. And you are?"

She accepted the handshake. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Frye." Should she tell the truth? Perhaps it wouldn't hurt, as long as she left out her surname. "I'm Ava."

The man stopped down and grabbed her blade, then handed it to her. "I think this is yours, Ava. I'm Henry Green.

"Thank you, again. I was in a bit of a rough spot back there, as you could obviously tell."

"Of course. It's what we do. We help out the people of London," Henry Green said, smiling. His expression then turned more grave. "What did those men want with you?"

"I don't know. They only told me their boss was looking for me," Ava answered, tucking her blade away.

Evie frowned and scanned Ava from head to toe. Ava noticed this and blushed, feeling self-conscious about her ragged breeches, worn boots, tattered coat, and patched shirt. "Do you want us to find you a place to stay?" Evie offered. "For your protection, obviously. We don't know if more men will be back for you," Henry quickly added.

"No thank you. You guys have done so much for me already. But I appreciate the offer." She felt ashamed, and despised the pity that the two Assassins were trying to hide.

"Stay safe then, Ava." Evie smiled, but looked a bit disappointed.

"We wish you well," Henry bid.

"Will do, and thank you for everything. I hope we meet again someday under better circumstances." The two Assassins looked back at her and nodded. They both raised their arms, fired off their rope launchers, and glided away.

I **'m SO sorry for not updating in over a month! I hope you guys enjoyed the new perspective! :)**

 **Please vote and comment ❤**


	8. Chapter 7

Blood splashed the Assassin's coat as his hidden blade buried itself to the hilt in the Templar's neck. The look of shock on the Templar lasted for a split second before it fell away, replaced by the blank stare of death. Jacob retracted his blade, and the body thumped to the ground.

"Ah, too easy. Who's next?" he called out.

"Me, I believe," a gruff male voice called back.

Jacob turned around, shoulders tall, ready to face his opponent. A pale face accented with a gruesome cheek scar stood a mere meter away from him.

"Hello Jacob," Maxwell Roth purred.

The Assassin's eyes narrowed, and his fist curled tighter around his brass knuckles. "Roth. I thought you betrayed the Templars."

"Oh of course, darling," Maxwell Roth drawled, stepping closer to Jacob. "I got bored with them. No point in staying with that lot. I'm not here to help the Templars fight you, if that's what you thought."

"Then what is your purpose here?" Jacob spat.

Roth dragged a hand down Jacob's jaw and rested it on his shoulder. Jacob kept his firm glare on Roth, and remained still, despite every part of his body screaming at him to recoil.

"My purpose? I don't know what my purpose on this earth is. I was merely born."

"Don't be a smart ass."

"No need to be so rude. I was just looking for a companion. The thing about death, my dear, is that it's very lonesome. But while it's lonesome, it's also very safe. No one can hurt me. But being safe all the time is boring, don't you think? The risk of being killed thrills my blood. It thrills yours too, I can tell. That's what I liked about you, Jacob. You weren't boring like all the others. One of these days however, you won't just run the risk of being killed. You will be killed. And it will be when you least expect it." Roth tilted his head back and a gravelly laugh erupted from his throat.

"Wha-"

Jacob's reply cut off as Roth abruptly ceased his cackling. "Just like our kiss. That was unexpected, wasn't it?"

Jacob's jaw clenched and his fist swung towards the older man's face. Roth easily caught Jacob's forearm and blocked the punch, a sneer cutting across his face. "The unexpected, Jacob," Roth said, and pulled a gun out of his coat, pressing the cold barrel onto Jacob's forehead. "Is what we live for." His finger curled around the trigger.

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Jacob bolted up in his mattress, his heart beating wildly. Using the glare of the moon, he checked his pocket watch. It was only a few hours past midnight.

He swung his legs out from under the covers and let the chugging train sway his body. Where had those dreams come from? He hadn't a notion of what might've triggered that dream, considering he had a pleasant tea with Mercy this afternoon.

"Yes, it was only tea," Jacob had remarked earlier that afternoon in response to Evie's knowing smirk. "It was a nice, quiet conversation, and although a bit docile for my taste, I liked getting to know her."

"What have you done to my brother?" Evie had gasped, feigning shock. She chuckled when Jacob flipped her off and walked to his own chamber.

But now, the noiseless lull only served to agitate him. He needed chaos to clear his mind. Where could I find some fun at this time of night?

His mind drifted to the sound of mugs clinking, the loud whoops of drunken men, and the flirtatious giggles of women.

A drink sounded like a good idea.

He pulled on his boots and hopped onto the next car in matter of moments. The last thing he expected was to see an elegant white robe bent over a desk, quill in hand, furiously writing. Henry was so absorbed into his writing, he gasped when the Jacob snatched the letter from under him, halting the quick movements of the white quill.

"Jacob!" He shouted. "Give that to me!"

"Calm down, Greenie." Jacob had never seen Henry so adamant about something, apart from the time he was trying to convince Jacob that The Rooks were a bad idea. Yet now, thanks to Jacob's Rooks, they ultimately had London's underworld in their hands.

Henry's hands balled into fists as Jacob swung around and scanned the letter. "Let's see what you could be writing in the middle of the night."

"Ah, correspondence to India."

Henry's calm demeanor had completely dissolved. "Jacob!"

"I wonder if Evie knows about your late night writing," Jacob wondered. He chuckled and burst into Evie's chamber car. "Oh Evie," he called out in a sing song voice.

"What the hell do you want, Jacob?" Evie sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Henry burst into the car right beside Jacob. "Henry?" Evie groggily asked, confused.

"Henry-"

"Jacob-"

"Stop!" Evie interrupted both of them, and hopped out of her bed. She gave them both smoldering glares, and turned to Jacob.

"I'll take that, thank you very much." She snatched the parchment out of his grasp and her brows scrunched in confusion as she took in the neat calligraphy.

"I can explain, Evie." Henry stepped closer to his fiance, an apology already on his lips. Her raised palm stopped the words from leaving his mouth and she glared at her younger twin. "Jacob," she said sternly.

"What?"

"What the devil were you doing up at this hour?"

Jacob's eyebrow rose to his hairline, surprised at his sister's accusing tone. "I think the better question is-"

"I think the better question is why you woke me up at this ungodly hour. Henry's business shall remain his, and he chooses whether or not he wants to share it with me. Now I'm not going to prod you about what you were doing up at this time of night since that is your business."

The younger assassin's jaw hung open and his eyes narrowed at his sibling. "Fine."

In one swift and silent move, he placed his top hat on his head and left the train.

* * *

A mischievous grin immediately lit his face as he entered the pub. He hadn't had one drink yet, but the boisterous atmosphere already made him feel giddy. There was no better way to remedy Evie's scolding.

She acted a bit too similar to father at times. After his passing, Evie was no longer his playful sister that he so often teased. She became a bit more stoic, a bit more sensible, and became the type of assassin he never could be. She took her studies seriously and trained relentlessly whilst he had never really grown out of his old habits. Shirking his duties and taking shortcuts proved to work for him, and while George wasn't all too happy about it, Jacob still got the job done.

But to hell with Evie right now. He had barely glanced at the letter before Evie snatched it away from him. He hadn't a notion as to what secret Henry and Evie were keeping. Surely there had to be a secret, since Evie only grew defensive like that when there was something to hide.

He didn't dwell on it any longer, however. "A pint, please," he ordered to the bartender, and settled in a stool. He tossed a few coins on the oak table and grasped the handle of his mug. He brought the mug to his lips and drank its cold contents in a few gulps. His mind buzzed and he waved at the bartender, signaling for another drink.

Loud hoots from behind distracted him and Jacob twisted himself in his chair to catch a glimpse of the commotion.

"Any brave souls dare to challenge ol' Deadbeat 'ere in a knife fight? Winner takes home a nice fat satchel of coins!" Jacob's eyes trained on a man behind the caller. His frame was enormous, his shoulders were almost as twice as wide as Jacob, and his fists look as if they could crush a skull in one swing. What made Jacob rise from his stool wasn't the gleaming bag of coins however, but the size of the smirk on the man's face. The cocky smirk overtook the entire lower half of the man's face, as if he knew he could squash any challenger. Jacob was going to prove him wrong.

"Deadbeat huh? That's quite a nickname," Jacob remarked, and strolled up to the owner of that nickname. "I wonder what my nickname will be when I defeat you."

The caller turned to Jacob, and eyed him up and then. Jacob seemed minuscule in size compared to "Deadbeat".

"Alright, then," the caller sneered, as if he already knew the outcome of this fight. "If you make it out of this in one piece, then we'll decide on a name. Highly unlikely though."

"Word of advice, don't depend on uncertainties. Now are we going to start this or not?" Jacob said, peeling off his coat.

"Alright then, ladies and gentlemen," the caller started in reply, "Deadbeat has a challenger! There's not too many rules. The only weapons allowed are two knives, which I will provide to ensure fairness. The other rule is, it's alright to surrender. You feel as though you are about to meet Death himself," the caller glanced at Jacob, "It's alright to surrender. Clear?"

Jacob cocked his head to the side. "Crystal."

Deadbeat merely chuckled, baring his teeth like a wolf.

"Get in your positions, then men, I'll hand you your knives, and on the count of three, you may begin."

The two opponents stood in a clearing, away from tables and chairs and any other obstacles that would interfere. They circled each other, shoulders forward. "Your weapons, gentlemen," the caller announced and slipped them two blades the length of a forearm. They were simple blades, similar to swords, aside from the fact that they were not double edged.

A crowd formed around them, eager to watch this late-night, slightly drunken duel.

"One." The caller stood a distance away from them, not wanting to get in between the two, but still close enough to keep an eye on the match.

"Two." The crowd buzzed with excitement, the fervor rapidly spreading throughout the hazy room.

The two men locked eyes, each one filled with a desire to win, egged on by the alcohol in their systems.

"Three."

Deadbeat wasted no time. It was the same each time he dueled. Beat the living daylights out of whatever scrawny idiot decided to challenge him, and reap the rewards. It was all about intimidation. He used his large size to his advantage, and lunged towards his opponent, throwing his weight.

Fortunately, Jacob could also use Deadbeat's large size to his advantage. The larger a mass is, the less gracefully they can move. Jacob sidestepped, and as his opponent started to turn around, he slipped in and brought the knife down on his waist.

Crimson stained Deadbeat's shirt, and he growled. He clutched his knife in one hand, and swung at Jacob, who brought his own knife up, and the two blades clashed. Metal sounded against metal. A bead of sweat rolled down Jacob's face as he struggled to push against Deadbeat's great strength. His eyes glanced down and he noticed his opponent's upper body was vulnerable. With a smirk, he ceased his struggling and let Deadbeat's blade fall forward, before bringing his knee up to slam into his stomach, and then slashing his calf.

Deadbeat looked up in surprise just in time to see Jacob's fist slam into his nose. The larger man stumbled backwards, blood pouring out of his nostrils. He wiped the blood with one arm and the other arm clenched tighter around his blade. His face wrinkled in fury. "Is that all you got?" Deadbeat cackled, blood staining his teeth as he spoke. "A bloody nose? I won't be going easy on you anymore."

"Oh no. I was just getting started." Jacob calmly studied his blade and wiped the blood from the edge with a finger tip. "Pity.." His sentence trailed off as he looked up to see Deadbeat charging towards him, knife outstretched like he was going to run the blade through Jacob.

Jacob did some quick thinking, wound his arm back, and threw the knife with a grunt. The handle spun in the air as it traveled and landed in Deadbeat's shoulder blade with a sickening crunch. Deadbeat's own knife fell with him and soon, he was in a bloody, groaning mess on the floor.

The crowd cheered at this unexpected outcome and multiple people clapped Jacob on the back. Someone handed him back his coat and top hat and his lips pulled back in a smile. "Deadbeat is quite a fitting name for him. Seeing as though I've beaten him half to death."

The caller walked up to Jacob, a mixture of admiration, jealousy, and shock brewing in his eyes. "I guess the prize money is yours," he seethed.

Jacob glanced at the rather substantial amount of coins in the bulging sack. His veins still buzzed with adrenaline, and the money didn't seem enticing to him. "I'll make an offer." His heart already throbbed with excitement at the idea.

"This money will go to whoever can defeat me in another match. No weapons this time."

He looked down at the pool of blood Deadbeat had left on the floor. "It may seem rather daunting," he said, eyeing the crowd for potential opponents, "but a real fighter can prove his skills." Apprehensive faces dotted the crowd and he sighed. Looks like his fun is over for the night.

"I could do with the cash," a voice called out, and Jacob looked around, eager to meet his new adversary. His eyes leveled and standing in front of him was the young woman he had encountered a couple nights. Her grey eyes challenged him and the corners of her mouth turned up into a confident grin. "And I think I owe you a scar."

* * *

 **Oh my god, I'm so sorry for the once a month updates, guys! I'm just always busy and writing these chapters are kinda hard and I am REALLY terrible at combat scenes... Also I didn't proof read because it's the middle of the night and I'm tired af...but I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Please vote, review, follow, and all that cool jazz! ㈳6 thanks for all the support!**


	9. Chapter 8

The sound of the train chugging along the tracks was no longer a bother to Henry Green. He has spent plenty of time here- enough time in fact- for his brain to be able to tune out the sound. But now, as he sat in an arm chair, legs apart, fingers clasped between his knees, elbows on his thighs, the sound of the train's steam engine was the only thing that registered in his brain.

"Henry?"

He looked up, and his eyes immediately softened at the sight of his fiance. Her stony face pulled at his heartstrings. "Evie, I can-" he started, the explanation on the edge of his tongue.

"Don't bother. I read the letter."

Henry rose and the two assassins stood face to face. "Since when do we keep secrets from each other?" Evie asked, folding her hands into Henry's. "I'm not angry, I just don't understand why you wouldn't let me know you were writing to the Indian Brotherhood."

A wave of silence washed over both of them as Evie waited for an answer.

Henry finally gave her a meek smile. "I was considering moving to India."

The caller wasn't alone in his surprise as he raised his eyebrow. Despite the immediate surprise of seeing this mysterious woman again, Jacob smirked.

"You help out a man once, and now you can't leave him alone, eh? I didn't realize I was that charming. My sister should compliment me more." He flashed the woman a grin as she rolled up her sleeves and the two started circling each other.

The woman merely glared in reply, but she remained silent. Dismayed at the lack of a witty comeback, Jacob tried to rile her up.

"You know, if I were in your position, and I just stole an innocent civilian's wallet, I wouldn't be so bitter."

The woman stretched her neck.

"Not so verbal today? That's alright, there are no words needed for when I keep that bag of coins that you so desperately need."

Her mouth flattened into a thin line.

"Alright!" The caller announced. "It's time we began. No weapons. Pure knuckles and bone. Here we have Mr. Jacob Frye, against, uh, why don't you introduce yours-"

With a startling cry, the girl rushed forward, and tackled Jacob to the ground, who was not prepared for the weight of another human to be flung onto him.

"Good lord!" The caller jumped out of the way.

The girl's grey eyes met Jacob's before she landed a punch square in the side of his face. Jacob felt a rush of hot embarrassment course through him, but he managed to get an arm underneath the girl's abdomen, and flipped her onto her back with a triumphant cry. She landed with a thud, and her eye's widened in fury as her lips curled up into a snarl. She sprung forward, just in time as Jacob leapt backwards, both of them landing on their feet, their stances equal. The crowd held its breath. It was seemingly impossible to predict the victor at this moment.

Timing it as quick as possible, Jacob threw a fist at the girl's head, but she foresaw this and ducked. Jacob's fists met air. As she came up, her fists slammed into Jacob's unprotected abdomen twice, and he staggered backwards. She took the opportunity to thrust her elbow and her forearm into the sensitive flesh of his neck, effectively hitting his windpipe. Jacob gasped, and she delivered a blow to his jaw, causing him to crumple to the floor. The woman brought her foot down into the side of his ribs, and he flopped onto his back, gasping like a fish out of water. She rammed the heel of her foot into his head this time. His head spun and he dreaded what he knew was coming up next.

The girl's shoulders heaved up with a large breath and she looked at the caller, cocking her head to the side and shyly smiling, briefly giving off the illusion of innocence. "I think I'll introduce myself to those coins instead. But in case you were wondering, my name is Ava."

Ava brought the sole of her foot down onto Jacob's face.

The crestfallen look on Evie's face immediately caused him to regret his words.

"India? Why? When do you plan to leave?"

Henry bit his lip, knowing that Evie wouldn't like his next reply.

"I was hoping you would come with me,"

A fit of giggles erupted from her, momentarily making him question his fiance's sanity.

When her giggles did not earn a smile from him, Evie's face slackened. "Oh, you're serious," she said incredulously.

"Why would I joke about this, Evie? India is where I come from. Don't you ever think about Crawley?"

Her eyes were downcast as memories of her childhood home rushed back to her.

"So India is your home then?"

"My home is where you are, Evie. And I was hoping I could bring you to India to make our home there. We could learn many things from The Indian Brotherhood."

"What about London? Who's to stop the Templars from taking over it again? Jacob? My idiot brother who nearly caused the collapse of British Currency?!"

"Jacob is an adult and a highly qualified assassin. He can handle it, along with help from his Rooks."

"He didn't know who Ezio Auditore was! He once asked me if Corgis liked residing in handbags despite having a masculine name, and he was completely sober when he asked me that! I still have no idea what he meant to this day!"

Taking a step back, he calculated his next words. It was best to be careful around Evie when she was in such a frenzied state.

Noticing this, Evie took a deep breath. "All I'm saying is, Jacob is not ready to be in charge of London all by himself. And I'm not ready to pick up my life and move halfway across the world."

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, but not before hearing Henry's quietly saying, "Perhaps you should trust your brother more. He is quite an adept man."

"These damn bandages! How the fuck do I keep them tightened?!" Jacob roared in frustration.

At the sound of his shouting, Mercy Owens fled into the room, her skirts swishing behind her. "Tsk tsk tsk, stop fidgeting, Jacob," she scolded. She reached the bed he was seated on and adjusted his pillows with her left hand, her right arm immobilized by stiff bandages.

He kept an intent eye on her as her hand left the pillow and landed on his bandaged, bare torso. Her touch was warm and inviting.

"Lean forward," Mercy directed.

Jacob did as he was told, and his face was mere centimeters away from hers. He felt his heart quicken, the same way it did when he knew there was someone for him to fight, or when he was offered an enticing mission. It was odd for him, and a new experience, to be feeling that way in such a docile situation. Nothing about the situation was exciting, yet still his heartbeat drummed, and he worried if Mercy could hear it since she was so close.

Mercy remained focused on the task at hand, unraveling the loose bandages. It proved quite difficult and time consuming using one hand, but she was determined. Once finished, she pulled out a clean roll from Jacob's bedside table and wrapped an arm around his abdomen so she could roll the bandage around his ribs.

Jacob's heartbeat grew even faster. At an attempt to cover up the sound, he spoke. "I just wanted to thank you again, Mercy, for letting me stay here at Ms. Nightingale's. I didn't want to have to go back to my sister, stinking in defeat. She's give me another one of her lectures. Evie thinks she always knows best. She still chides me to this day even though we're both adults. The same age as well!"

Mercy laughed in response, and it was a light, airy, feminine sound that sounded pleasant in Jacob's ears. "You should laugh more often," he remarked. "I like it when you do."

A rose colored blush tinted Mercy's cheeks and she scoffed. "Stop being such a flirt, Mr. Frye." Once she had finished bandaging his ribs, her precise fingers ran delicately along his jaw, checking the injuries.

"And of course, I don't mind, Jacob, and Ms. Nightingale certainly didn't. Although I wish I were in the comforts for my own home, it's been such a pleasure staying here while my arm heals. I've been doing what I can to help her out. I have been meaning to see you again, too, but certainly not like this! You sure know how to make someone worry, limping in here with a black eye, a cut lip, half your face swollen, and bruised ribs, saying that you had to deal with a dozen nasty men all by yourself. I'm surprised you made it out of that fight all in one piece."

Jacob thought of the agony the girl- Ava she said her name was- caused as she slammed her foot into his side. And that sly smile she had at the end of the fight. Oh how he wished he could've wiped it off her face before she caused him to black out! When he came to, his head pounded like there was a steam engine inside his skull, and he knew he couldn't go back to the train and let Evie seem him in this state. The only thing he could do was straggle to Ms. Nightingale, knowing she wouldn't ask too many questions of how Jacob acquired his injuries. He didn't expect for Mercy to still be there though, and upon laying her eyes on him, Mercy shot off several questions in a tight, concerned voice.

"Yes, yes those men were particularly nasty," Jacob nodded as Mercy applied a reeking salve to his face. His nose immediately wrinkled at the horrid scent. "I know it smells awful, Jacob, but I'll have to keep applying it for the next few days. So reme-"

"Few days?! I don't think it's necessary I stay that long!"

"Well you did sustain multiple, severe injuries. Most people would have been here for a couple weeks at least, Jacob, so you're lucky I'm letting you off early.

Jacob grumbled his dissent. "My sister will be wondering where I am."

Mercy gave a sympathetic smile and applied more of the salve. Jacob stared up at her as she did so, and once her eyes met his, he held her gaze.

"Mercy." Her name came out of his throat in a strangled manner, and he cleared his throat.

"Yes, Jacob?"

"Would you like to have dinner sometime? I know we had tea before, but that was rather informal and I don't know if you would like-"

"Jacob."

"Yes?"

"Shut up. Of course I'll have dinner with you." Her face broke into a grin.

Seeing that grin, Jacob immediately felt the tension in his chest drain and he gave a little laugh. "Oh thank god. I thought I would've had to torture you in order to get you to say yes."

"Well your charm can only get you so far, Mr. Frye."


	10. Chapter 9

The beating of Jacob's heart increased furiously. He stared at the man in front of him and his eyes hardened. He pulled his mouth in a thin line, and the man rivaled his actions.

"Get it together, Jacob," he muttered to the mirror. His sweaty hands fidgeted with the button on his shirt. Why was he so nervous right now? This was Mercy. He was comfortable with her and he never had problems with girls back in Crawley. It wasn't as if he romanced girls left and right back at home, but talking to women was second nature to Jacob.

But ever since he came to London, he had been so busy with Crawford Starrick and The Rooks, that he hardly had time to focus on other... things. So maybe he might be a little rusty in his ways, but this was just dinner.

"It's just dinner. Stop trembling," he told his shaking fingers.

"Who's trembling?" Evie asked, entering the chamber. Jacob turned around, surprise plastered on his face. He did not want his sister to see him like this. "I-I thought you left," he stammered out.

Evie swept her gaze up and down her twin. "Yes, well now I'm back. I live here too, you know. Anyway, why are you all dressed u-" Realization dawned over her as her eyes lit up in amusement. "Oh."

"Oh no. No, Evie, really please save it. I don't want to hear it right now," Jacob pleaded.

"This is your dinner with Mercy, isn't it? I had no idea it was such a special occasion," she said, and grinned cheekily.

"Evie, no, just please be quiet. Don't embarrass me," he sighed while tightening his belt.

"Oh but I'm happy for you, Jacob! Hold on, you were trembling. Are you nervous?"

"No."

"Oh my-"

"NO!"

"You point a gun at Jacob Frye and he barely flinches, but a pretty girl invites him to dinner and he is like a scared kitten. What a peculiar man my brother is!"

Jacob groaned into his hands. "This is what I meant by embarrassing me."

A mischievous smile flashed onto Evie's face. "Don't worry, dear brother. I'm leaving soon. I just wanted to show A-"

Suddenly, both twins snapped their heads towards the entrance of the car as they heard footsteps. "Hey Evie, I-"

Conversation on both ends immediately halted. The intruder didn't even have time to react as Jacob pulled his pistol out of his coat and aimed it at their head.

"Jacob!" Evie roared. "Relax!"

"Why?" Jacob shot back. "Do you have any idea who she is? What she's done? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blast her brains out right now!"

With one swift and unforeseen move, Evie knocked the pistol out of her brother's hands and held it out of his reach, the barrel facing safely away from them. "You are not shooting my friend. This is Ava and she-"

"I know who she is!" The younger Frye interjected. "She's a thief and a murderer!"

Finally, Ava piped up, having kept silent long enough. "Don't act so high and mighty, assassin," she snarled. "I saved your damn life, so you should show a bit more appreciation. And it's not my fault you can't fight for shit!"

"You two... know each other?" Evie deadpanned. "How?" An incredulous look crossed her face. Bewilderment was a foreign feeling to her, and she didn't like that she was unaware of the fact that her friend and her brother had crossed paths before.

"Well," Jacob started snarkily, "She steals from innocent civilians and loots the dead. I had to track her down after she stole a poor woman's purse."

"And he doesn't know how to keep track of his ammunition, so had it not been for my throwing knife, he'd be dead as a rat right now. Not to mention, I beat him at his own challenge to a duel at a bar."

Jacob only glowered in response. Ava smiled haughtily, feeling victorious. Evie sighed, rubbing her temples. She was so used to getting into petty arguments with her brother, but now that she was mediator, she sympathized with her late father. Breaking up our fights must've been exhausting for father, she mused.

"Alright, children," she teased. " Let's stop with this. Jacob, I believe you have a dinner you need to get to. Ava, we need to finish our discussion from earlier. Now please, for my sanity, the next time you two meet each other, I hope you'll have resolved your issues."

Ava nodded, briefly feeling ashamed for letting her immaturity get the best of her. Jacob checked his watch and cursed. "I'm late! Of course it's always troublesome for me when you're around, Ava," Jacob jived one last time before exiting the car, his movement knocking his top hat off the coat rack.

Evie stared curiously as the hat settled on the floor. Jacob never forgot his hat. He was almost inseparable from it.

"I can't imagine having to live with him." Ava's words snapped Evie out of her thoughts.

"Well, if things go well at this dinner for Jacob, I won't have to live with him much longer," Evie chuckled. Ava laughed, the sound resonating throughout the room, and Evie joined in, her sides shaking in amusement. But the fallen top hat caught Evie's eye again, and a pang of sadness jolted her heart. Regardless if things went well for Jacob, Evie knew that she really would not be living in the same place as her brother for much longer.

A breeze blew through Jacob's combed locks. He somewhat regretted not bringing his hat now. He felt almost vulnerable without it. Scoffing at himself, he knocked on the door. This was a formal dinner and it would have been offensive to Mercy to dress casually like he did everyday.

The door swung open and the first thing he met were her eyes. The soft, cornflower blue that held eagerness and apprehension in them mirrored his pit of feelings stirring in his gut.

"Hello Jacob," Mercy breathed. The movement of her coral lips was the only thing that broke him out of the enchantment that were her eyes.

"Good evening, Mercy," Jacob replied, and offered her a hand to guide her down Ms. Nightingale's steep porch. She floated down the steps, her bright, fair hair color contrasting the dark, plum-colored hue of her dress. "You look lovely tonight." That sentence was a colossal understatement to Jacob. Mercy was beyond stunning, in a way that he could not put into words.

"Why thank you, Mr. Frye. You're not bad, yourself. I like you without the hat," Mercy observed. "It's different."

Jacob gave her a grin and led her to the awaiting carriage. The setting sun illuminated the shiny wooden panels of the carriage, and the horses stood quietly in front of it, hardly making a noise. He had picked out the newest carriage, the most mellow horses, and shined the harness the day before.

He wanted the evening to be perfect. Once Mercy had settled herself into the carriage, Jacob took hold of the reins and climbed up into the driver's bench.

The horses snorted and shook their manes, and they went off at a leisurely trot.

The night was serene and the air was cooling from the disappearing sun. Lamp lighters gradually made their way around, tiny new flames appearing farther and farther away.

One flame caught Jacob's attention. It was pretty far away, about as far as the ports. However, it was bigger than the other flames, and Jacob squinted at it, wondering what type of lamp it was.

Then he realized it wasn't a lamp. His eyes widened upon realization. Jacob reacted, but not fast enough. By then, the explosion had sounded, the loud blast spooking the horses.

* * *

OK GUYS IM SO SO SO SORRY! I've been busy with school and haven't had time to update! But it's summer now and I have a lot more time to write chapters. Thanks so much for all the support. If you guys want to get updated more often, you should follow me on wattpad AnimalWhisperer . I usually publish chapters right after I finish them on there because it's so much easier to update on the wattpad mobile app. I'm also thinking of publishing my other wattpad stories on here but idk? I want to thank you guys so much for the support here but I reach a lot more people on wattpad. I currently have a Rafe Adler (from Uncharted 4) fanfic and a Bucky Barnes published on wattpad, and a Loki (yes, as in Marvel Cinematic Universe from Thor) fic, a Sam Winchester (from supernatural yeah) fic, and a Divergent fic in the works. I'm hesitant about publishing them on here though because I don't know if they would reach as wide of a range of readers. But still, thanks for the support! I'm about 500 words in the next chapter so I'll publish it ASAP!


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